Lying in the Middle of Nowhere
by Butchercup
Summary: *Oneshot* When you are that close to an important person, it's like a slap in the face when they refuse to speak to you.


_**Hello my lovelies! Would you like to see what I have been stressing over so much that I wasn't able to update? :D I have my beautiful security back! so I will get to work on 'Enough' as sooon as I can! My minor set back was this. See, I'm taking an AP class this year, and my damned teacher tracked me down and was like "OH HEY! HERE'S A BUNCH OF HOMEWORK TO RUIN YOUR SUMMER! HAVE A NICE SUMMER!" So I had to answer a bunch of questions, and I still have to read a book and write a journal on every 20 pages! WTF WHY! Yeah... I start school in two weeks... and we have a test on all this the first day... yeah wish me luck on that! **_

_**Anyway, part of the work was to write a descriptive narrative essay on "My First Life Line" so after reading a story that had the same theme, I figured that it's basically asking for me to tell about a time where someone taught me a valuable lesson for my future. And I finally finished it! This is it, but for fanfiction purposes, we'll say it's Robin's point of view! :D **_

_**Enjoy~**_

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Advanced Placement Writing Assignment

August 25, 2014

Lying in the Middle of Nowhere

The older I got, the closer I became with my mother. Around the age of four-teen, I was old enough to understand her struggles and the things she did to keep me happy. She could tell me about the ridiculous people she encountered while she was in the store. She could walk up to me with that kind smile of hers and start to tell a funny story about what happened on the road on her way home, and I would laugh with her. We could burst into fits of laughter and not care who heard. Of course, let's not forget, I knew I could tell her anything. Well… _now _I know.

One spring afternoon, I trudged home in the heat of the desert. How I hated the desert with such a passion. Despite the uncomfortable warmth, I smiled brightly, because I couldn't wait to see my mom. I wanted to skip into her room and ramble and laugh about our days. Once I walked in the front door, cool air seemed to splash in my face like refreshing water. Tossing my backpack onto the floor, I hurried to her open bedroom door. Open bedroom door? That was the first sign of trouble, but I paid it no attention. When I reached the doorway, my smile faded in an instant. She wasn't very happy. I inched into the room, hesitant and heart racing. I racked my brain for the last thing I did wrong, but couldn't for the life of me figure out what it could have been.

Once I gathered the courage to look her in the eyes, I regretted it. The kind, silly vibe I usually received from her was replaced with the authority of an angered parent. She calm instructed me to take a look inside my room, and I did as I was told immediately. I knew better than to talk back or disobey, especially when she was angry. Although her voice carried a calm demeanor, I could always tell if there was contained rage hidden behind the serene act.

As the door to my own bedroom flew open, my eyes darted desperately around for the source of my mom's anger. Perhaps, when I found it, I would be able to laugh it off and explain to her that it was a simple misunderstanding. Then we could continue the rest of the evening with no tension. Only, it wasn't something I could easily fix with a few words. On my bed, lay scattered papers: scraps of notes between friends from class, birthday cards…and one note which should have remained in the trash. My entire body heated up with fear, I picked up the paper and scanned it quickly. A few weeks earlier, I had stapled a mass of notebook paper together and had my friends right short goodbye notes on them. Being the last year of middle school, and many of us going to separate high schools, I decided that I wanted memories to cherish. However, one note was the obvious cause of the situation. I glared hatefully at the hand writing which belonged to an old friend. A friend who ended up more than a friend… without my mom's knowledge. My hands curled into fists, crumbling the paper slowly. He had mentioned our past relationship, and how he was glad we were still friends. For a moment, I wanted to punch something, preferably his face. However, in the same breath, I knew it wasn't his fault. It was my fault.

I lied to her. The one thing my mom hates the most and I did it. I once thought I could tell her anything, but for some reason, I didn't have the courage to tell her about him. So I didn't say anything; I kept quiet. Although the relationship was long over, I knew that wasn't her concern. My mom doesn't like liars. She scolded me, but I didn't argue. I understood, and the pain which was clear in her voice stabbed at my heart. She dismissed me, and I walked sheepishly to my room.

I didn't have the energy to watch television. I didn't have the energy to listen to music or be on my computer at all. All I could do was let cold tears stream down my cheeks. I always hated that disappointed stare she gave me. Things like this didn't happen too often, but when they did, it my mom was never the only one angry with me.

_How could I let myself betray her like that?_

I didn't know. All I knew was that, once it was all over, I would never lie to her again. It literally hurt me to know that she was disappointed in me. I had trouble sleeping; I don't like to sleep knowing somebody is mad at me. Somehow, when I opened my eyes, it was morning. I slipped out of bed and made my way to the kitchen, passing my mom. She had to take my dad to work. I managed a smile, and waved with a small, "good morning." Nothing. She kept walking, following my dad into the garage. My heart sunk. When you are that close to an important person, it's like a slap in the face when they refuse to speak to you.

Of course I cried again. I felt lost, broken. But I could only imagine how it must have felt to find out her daughter had kept such an important thing from her. Guilt flooded my blood stream and I wasn't myself at school. The day was spent pondering my actions. _Why did I do it? Why didn't I just tell her? Why couldn't I be more trustworthy? _

I didn't know.

The walk home was no different from the day before. I tossed my backpack with more force than I meant to. I silently apologized to it. Although she was angry with me, I had to let her know I was home, like I always do. My mind flooded with questions. _Would she still be mad? _Of course she would be! I would be too! Anxiety blinded me to the point that I didn't acknowledge her bedroom door's position. Now, I can recall I being inches from closed, the way it should be.

I knocked, and waited for her to summon me inside, dreading the voice I was sure I would hear.

"Hey, Robin, come look at this," she exclaimed, pointing at her computer screen. A smile etched its way onto my face as I entered her room to see what had made her laugh so hard. I had her back. I had my mother back.

As we laughed at the game she was playing, the game that I had introduced to her months earlier, I felt at ease again. Everything was right. We were okay; she was still my fun and silly mother. To this very day, I know that I don't _ever _want to lose that side of her. I don't want to feel the misery I felt that day. And I know exactly how to avoid it.

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_**There you have it! What do you guys think? Is it worthy of a good first grade in my AP English class? Please review your thoughts and if not, just thoughts on the story itself! I can't go over 5 pages and this is just hitting 4 pages. I don't know why I felt the need to say that but OH WELL! I will try to get the chapter of 'Enough' out to you guys as soon as I possibly can! Thanks for the understanding, I appreciate each and every one of you who have been waiting patiently for my work! Love you all! **_

_**XOXO**_


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